


Me and My Shadow

by Delphi



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Drama, Fucking Machines, Other, Revenge, Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Technology is the great equalizer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me and My Shadow

They're under his roof. They're in his home.

It is almost enough to drive a man mad, and whenever he thinks of that firebender boy with his careless hands all over Asami, Hiroshi needs to soothe himself with the thought of clean, gleaming metal and smooth precision parts.

 _"Asami!"_ A playful splash echoes up from the pool into his study.

He isn't a violent person. He's a problem-solver. A re-director of misspent energies.

The splashing grows louder, and his hand clenches around his pencil. He pictures the boy brazenly lounging with a drink in his hand. Half-naked and cocksure in his bathing suit.

Shapes emerge on the paper. It's a prior design. The assembly line is dear to his heart, but on occasion he does custom work for select clients. People will pay dearly to make their dreams come true, and Hiroshi, no matter what he is constructing, delivers only the very best.

A platform, 6'x4'x4'. Aluminium, highly reflective. Well-grounded. Corrugated where the user would kneel.

His hand hesitates, and then he sketches the outline of a faceless, exposed figure on elbows and knees.

Wrist and ankle restraints. Insulated units on the hands and feet. A spreader bar between the knees.

Another splash. _"Knock it off, Bolin!"_

A gag.

The symmetrist in him is inclined to match the spreader bar with a fixed horizontal rod. His last unit was similarly outfitted by the client's request, with a large rubber plug for the mouth in the shape of a eel-hound phallus.

But no, he wants the user...

...the boy to be able to peer about in outraged panic. To stare over his shoulder in horror at the device behind him. To squirm and fight to no avail as the drive arm bends.

A bit gag, then. Enough to let the boy's enraged squawks be heard. To let the spittle drip down his chin.

Hiroshi's pencil moves more quickly as his breathing grows heavier.

A motor and mount. A pin drive and channel assembly. The neat lines of circuitry.

He pictures the boy being slotted into the machine. The boy would fight at first—that's only to be expected—but the restraints and the corrugation would soon deter him, and he would learn that he wouldn't be hurt if he didn't struggle.

He imagines the thrum of 60 rpm. The phallus at the end of the device glints with industrial grease. Steel advances. Cold—ridged to stimulate the body's cruder, organic mechanisms.

In his mind's eye, the boy thrashes, and then his handsome face crumples in humiliation as his body is breached. The pistons sigh. Flesh hardens, human will bypassed by engineering.

_"Please..."_

Does he hear it, or does he imagine it?

Hiroshi straightens up, the pencil falling from his grip. He stares down at what he has drawn and then pulls out his handkerchief and mops his damp brow. He takes a deep breath. There is no inconvenience, he assures himself, that cannot be solved with the proper application of technology.


End file.
